Ironic
by this-heart
Summary: Don't worry, it's nothing personal. Short oneshot, Caius-centric, plus a nameless werewolf.


**I fixed this a bit, because... it needed it. **

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Ironically, the hunter becomes the hunted. She is being followed.

Chased is a better word. She's been running all night, her claws tearing dirt and grass behind her as the figure ghosts about in the trees around her, always around her. He is waiting. She can't see him, but she can sense him and smell him, god, his scent is overpowering. It's like the taste of ice water swallowed after spearmint. Or the burn in her throat from running so long and far. Is she in Russia now? The trees look the same. She doesn't know where she's going but she won't be going much longer.

She has no idea what he wants with her. He is obviously something otherworldly like herself. Anyone else would have taken one look at her massive form and run in the other direction, but he followed. Now, six hours later, she can tell he is not suicidal, but sadistic, and his calm determination terrifies her. It was foolish of her to run. If she had fought him back there, she wouldn't be in the present situation. But she didn't. She is helpless as the moon hides behind the horizon she cannot see.

She stumbles, and tumbles end over end, quickly and painfully morphing. Her paws shrink to hands, four limbs shrink to arms and legs, and wolf features morph to human black eyes and black hair. The fur disappears save for the now ever-present layer of thin, fine, just noticeable black hair. Her energy is spent. Her heart hammers rapidly in her ribcage, pressed against the ground, and she tries to gulp panicked breaths into her burning throat. The dry winter air makes it worse, and combined with the scent of her stalker nearing, she can barely breathe. She coughs weakly and tries to lift herself up (what does she think she can do,_ run_?) but her weak limbs hold her for only a moment before she collapses.

Opening her blurry eyes to see him, she is shocked at his appearance. He has snow-white hair, though he looks hardly older than her own twenty-four summers. His eyes are as red as the blood bubbling to the surface of her scrapes, vibrant against her pale skin. The red eyes are also round, something she has never seen. His features are terrifying and alien, but they are perfect. What has she done to anger this beautiful creature so?

He smiles, and the menace is anything but beautiful.

"What do you want from me?" she croaks, though he doubts he will care or understand her language. "Please, don't hurt me. I don't want to fight you."

His menacing smirk grows larger. It is one made of triumph and hate. He does not advance, however.

What is he waiting for? Her badly scraped palms sting with earth and her breath has slowed a bit. She is still trying to keep fear from overwhelming her. Something drips onto the back of her hand; her nose is bleeding. When she reaches to wipe it off, the smile disappears and the ghost of another expression replaces it as he stumbles back. The fear disappears as quickly as it arrived.

The answer becomes clear: he is afraid of her. He wants to watch her fear him before he kills her, and kill her he will inevitably do. The fear disappears and behind astonishment is fury. She heaves herself off the ground (he does not flinch this time) not caring that she's naked or that there is a man (a male, anyway) standing before her.

"Well, go on then!" she screams, and wipes her arm under her nose. Dirt chafes her face and she gets a red streak down her arm. "If you wanted to kill me, why didn't you do it while the moon was high?" She notes his expression- he either is ignoring her, or does not understand. Her courage grows. "Instead you kick me once I'm down. You coward!" she rages.

His expression changes very suddenly to fury, and her own anger dissolves into fear the way the flame of a candle bursts into a puff of white smoke. She backs up quickly as he crouches to spring. "If you will wait, I will. We can have a fair fight when night falls," she begs quickly. Forget dignity.

His anger and hate is still tangible, but he seems to soften somehow. "Ah, Child of the Moon," he sighs, and she stops. She is stunned to find that his Mongolian is perfect. "I have waited so long for this, you are the last known of your kind..." She does not know what to make of that at all. "I am patient. But I am not that patient." His lips pull back over his teeth and he snarls, and in one moment of terror she can register a glittering quality to his skin just before he lunges.

She could not know the mercy she was getting. Caius never was a fan of drawing things out.

Sunlight from the new dawn splashes across his cloak, much like her blood did moments before, and the irony goes unappreciated.

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**Hooray for sucky endings!**

**Reviews are love :)**


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